Drat It: Candles are nice, but no match for sunshine

Feb. 28, 2014

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Features editor

Let’s all say it together now: “We are SO ready for this winter to be over.”

The skiers and snowmobile-riders may be having a great year, but the rest of us have had enough of this whole snow-and-cold thing, to put it mildly.

My winter outdoor activity is dog-walking. It is not fun to walk dogs on icy sidewalks. Sometimes, large dogs pounce unexpectedly. The human on the other end of the leash can suffer a rather ignominious fall.

The real problem, though, is walking the dogs on stretches of rural road that do not have sidewalks. If a car approaches, I have to either duck up a driveway — if one is nearby — or plunge into the huge pile of snow alongside the road. Several times this winter, that has meant our little dog literally jumps in over her head.

She doesn’t mind: She’d happily eat her way out of the snow bank. I find it disconcerting.

I also hate it when the snow falls in the top of my boots. Not that the boots do a great job of keeping my feet dry anyway. They’re five years old and literally coming apart at the seams.

I seem to have issues with all of my outerwear. I hate my coat. I hate my scarf. I even hate my hat — and I knitted it.

I have trouble remembering what green even looks like. Whine, whine, whine.

Indoors, I have been waging my own little war against the dark of winter.

It started on the weekend after Christmas, when some dear friends visited and we exchanged gifts. They gave me a candle: one of those expensive three-wick ones.

They didn’t know I have candle issues.

For years, I bought candles all the time. I bought tapers, votives and pillars. I bought them in jars. I have round ones, metallic ones, floating ones.

I used to burn candles fairly often — 20 years ago, before I had dogs or a kid to knock things over. Unfortunately, at that point I had a fairly big collection of candles, and for a year or two after I stopped burning them, I kept making purchases.

To my own credit, I realized what was going on and stopped buying them.

But candles are popular gifts. Big ones kept showing up under the Christmas tree with distressing regularity. These gifts, often from my daughter, were so lovely I couldn’t part with them. Several of them ended up serving as oversized sachets in my bathroom towel drawers.

At least my towels smell great.

My daughter used to love sniffing the different candle fragrances at our grocery store’s big display. We’d occasionally sneak a few votives or tarts into the shopping basket.

I even dabbled with candle-making as a hobby at one point.

But I seldom lit one.

I finally convinced my family that buying me candles was a no-no, but now my friends had presented me with this lovely — and to my mind, outrageously expensive — gift.

So I lit the silly thing. It burnt beautifully, all nice and evenly, and it smelled great. I was truly impressed, and the flickering candle light was rather comforting on cold, snowy nights.

That candle was gone in a week. I dug a few more out of the cupboard and burned those, too.

It’s been non-stop candlelight in the Goble household ever since. Not just one candle at a time, either: I usually have five or six lit.

It is not the most attractive candle arrangement I’ve ever put together. My emphasis is on safety, not beauty. I keep the candles on metal or glass trays, with nothing flammable nearby. The wicks get trimmed after every use.

My flickering bank of candlelight has brightened many a snowy evening this winter. Better yet, my old candle hoard is finally being depleted, opening up some much-needed cupboard space.

Some of the scent combinations have been ... interesting. Lavender, balsam and cranberry? Not the best choice. But some big, heavy candles are gone, and we enjoyed their cheery light.

I’m ready to replace it with sunlight, mind you. I want to open my windows and pack away my sweaters. I want to be out in my garden, thinking about tubers, not tapers; violas, not votives.

Until then, I’ll keep my candles burning and make the best of it.

At least March has finally arrived. Could someone please tell that to the weather?